With the opening of Longer Ways to Go, the Phoenix Art Museum has brought a unique view of classic American culture to the Valley. The theme of this exhibit is based on the photography of Kōzō Miyoshi. Miyoshi is a Japanese photographer and former artist in residence with the Center of Creative Photography at the University of Arizona. The displayed works of Miyoshi provide interesting insight into the roots of modern Americana, and open up a dialogue with other photographers of other eras centered on the topic.

The Phoenix Art Museum arranged the show chronologically from the Great Depression through to the present day. The manner of presentation creates a visual commentary on both: how American’s view themselves due to the myths surrounding the “open road” and the forgotten reality behind this narrative. Instead of a hackneyed showcase of the nuclear-fueled, plastic Americana fantasy; Phoenix Art Museum presents a story too often neglected. The acceptance of this story promotes cultural awareness, honesty, and discovery.

Viewers will find that the promise of the open road isn’t as free as they expected. In the moments that the freedom does exist, it is often far more isolating and far rougher than anyone could have guessed. The photographs shown in Longer Ways to Go offer not only a thoughtful rebuke to a near-century worth of myth surrounding the open roads of America and a compassionate view of those left stranded on the side of American highways and byways.

Since the exhibit begins with depression-era photography and ends with contemporary photographs, the viewer sees the birth of the American myth and its precipitous decline. Starting with the often deadly conditions of the Depression, the escape the road offered in search of work, food, and stability is found in many pieces. Works like those of Edward Weston provide a stark reminder that escape often comes at a cost, and pays homage to those blazed that the trails often taken for granted in successive generations.

Going forward through the exhibit sends the view forward in time into the era of freshly polished paint and chrome that came in the wake of America’s post-war dominance of the automobile industry. The joy and satisfaction offered the passengers of these vehicles is readily apparent. The awakening of the adventurous spirit of the average American takes hold in the works of photographers like Robert Frank and Charles Harbutt. The near mania that encapsulated the middle 20th century of American history follows from there. However, much like the swings of a mood disorder, the cultural depression that followed is also documented.

The escape the road offered vagabonds, bikers, and ne’er-do-wells is almost revered here but so too is the desolation many found. The neglect of American society and the toll that neglect took on these once prized roads is thoughtfully captured in this exhibit. In the 1980s, Ronald Regan popularized the idea that it was “Morning in America again.” Longer Ways to Go reminds everyone that before morning came there was the dark of night and before that, the stillness of dusk. Morning may have come, however briefly, but the cool air of dawn was quickly replaced by the heat of the afternoon. A heat that dried and cracked paint, pavement, and the skin of those caught in the blazing sun. Popular culture likes to hide the blemishes that dot the past of the American road, but Longer Ways to Go is interesting precisely because it puts those blemishes on display.

With the opening of Longer Ways to Go, the Phoenix Art Museum has brought a unique view of classic American culture to the Valley. The theme of this exhibit is based on the photography of Kōzō Miyoshi. Miyoshi is a Japanese photographer and former artist in residence with the Center of Creative Photography at the University of Arizona. The displayed works of Miyoshi provide interesting insight into the roots of modern Americana, and open up a dialogue with other photographers of other eras centered on the topic.

The Phoenix Art Museum arranged the show chronologically from the Great Depression through to the present day. The manner of presentation creates a visual commentary on both: how American’s view themselves due to the myths surrounding the “open road” and the forgotten reality behind this narrative. Instead of a hackneyed showcase of the nuclear-fueled, plastic Americana fantasy; Phoenix Art Museum presents a story too often neglected. The acceptance of this story promotes cultural awareness, honesty, and discovery.

Viewers will find that the promise of the open road isn’t as free as they expected. In the moments that the freedom does exist, it is often far more isolating and far rougher than anyone could have guessed. The photographs shown in Longer Ways to Go offer not only a thoughtful rebuke to a near-century worth of myth surrounding the open roads of America and a compassionate view of those left stranded on the side of American highways and byways.

Since the exhibit begins with depression-era photography and ends with contemporary photographs, the viewer sees the birth of the American myth and its precipitous decline. Starting with the often deadly conditions of the Depression, the escape the road offered in search of work, food, and stability is found in many pieces. Works like those of Edward Weston provide a stark reminder that escape often comes at a cost, and pays homage to those blazed that the trails often taken for granted in successive generations.

Going forward through the exhibit sends the view forward in time into the era of freshly polished paint and chrome that came in the wake of America’s post-war dominance of the automobile industry. The joy and satisfaction offered the passengers of these vehicles is readily apparent. The awakening of the adventurous spirit of the average American takes hold in the works of photographers like Robert Frank and Charles Harbutt. The near mania that encapsulated the middle 20th century of American history follows from there. However, much like the swings of a mood disorder, the cultural depression that followed is also documented.

The escape the road offered vagabonds, bikers, and ne’er-do-wells is almost revered here but so too is the desolation many found. The neglect of American society and the toll that neglect took on these once prized roads is thoughtfully captured in this exhibit. In the 1980s, Ronald Regan popularized the idea that it was “Morning in America again.” Longer Ways to Go reminds everyone that before morning came there was the dark of night and before that, the stillness of dusk. Morning may have come, however briefly, but the cool air of dawn was quickly replaced by the heat of the afternoon. A heat that dried and cracked paint, pavement, and the skin of those caught in the blazing sun. Popular culture likes to hide the blemishes that dot the past of the American road, but Longer Ways to Go is interesting precisely because it puts those blemishes on display.